In Ruins
by ForestFireSong
Summary: As a child, the moment Greece's mother died was when he was plunged into what became the rest of his childhood. Dealing with Rome and his treasured grandsons, Turkey and Egypt, and Byzantium, the loved, fought over, enslaved, abandoned little boy will have to grow up fast. (Rating may or may not go up.)
1. Chapter 1

Memories connected to the man came in the form of the parties he threw. Not the formal parties, for political matters, but wild parties for entertaining his friends. Why Heracles had to come to this man's parties, where it often got too coarse and crude for the age he was at the time, he never knew.

His name was Ancient Rome.

He was Heracles's father.

Memories connected to her were some of the happiest Heracles possessed. It was peaceful with her. She taught him everything he should know and all the other things he did. Greece, what he called himself, was taken from her name.

And her name was Ancient Greece.

She was Heracles's mother. He wished she hadn't died. _Or been killed, more accurately._

The memories with this next man were, in Heracles's opinion, between the…eventful times with Rome, and the contented times with Ancient Greece. Sometimes they had been spent joyfully, discussing philosophy or his mother's culture, but a lot of them had been spent full of warnings and worry, the man trying to make Heracles grow up faster than he should. He wanted to prepare him for Rome.

This man's name was Byzantium.

He had been Heracles's caretaker, and his passing had reminded, or more shown him, that you couldn't escape from Rome in that world.

The next person most prominent in Heracle's childhood was one that he still saw to that day. And they bickered constantly. Most people couldn't figure out why, and put it down to that the two didn't either, and fought because of some past offense. It was more than that to Heracles, but he couldn't deny that the man had taken him in, like so many others, and try to lend him some knowledge. He hadn't failed in that aspect.

His name was Turkey.

Heracles called him Sadiq as well.

The last two of his childhood, yes, there were two, and twins at that, were still around for him to speak to as well. Even though Heracles was technically their uncle, as Rome was their grandfather and his father, the three were so close in age it was more like cousins, or brothers.

North Italy Veneziano and South Italy Romano. Or, Feliciano and Lovino Vargas.

They were the treasured grandsons of Rome, Feliciano especially. They were on good terms, even though Heracles'd had a sub-war with them in World War 2. However, these two favorites of Rome had affected the entire empire, with the country's infatuation with them.

Treasured, loved, fought over, taken, enslaved, overlooked, forgotten, discarded.

Instead of Sparta, this is Greece.

**A/N- I've wanted to do this idea for awhile, the story of Greece's childhood and all the people that affected it. I will tell you that the historical knowledge is, aside from a few books I have, all mine and therefore not very good. If you want to tell me something me anything I've done wrong, please PM or leave it in a review ^^**

**Two notes- I know Ancient Greece was referred to as the Byzantine Empire, but I just made Byzantium a separate character. Also, Greece will be called Heracles for most of the fic. **

**Read and review, and tell me if you think I should continue! **

**I don't own Hetalia. All I own is Byzantium. -.- Okay, end long author's note.**


	2. Chapter 2

_ With all the stories his mother told him about the Greek gods and goddesses, Heracles often wondered if she was descended from those gods herself. _

_ She had a gentle, intelligent personality paired with dark hair usually put up elegantly. She would wear a simple white chiton and look beautiful. Heracles knew it was childish of him to only see the woman and not the nation, the good and not the bad, but it was his mother after all. _

_ However, when he asked her about being descended from the gods and goddesses of their tales, Ancient Greece would shake her head._

_ "We're not fully humans, no, but descended from gods either." She told the little green-eyed boy. "With everything nations have done, and what they will most likely eventually have to do, none of them would deserve to be regarded as a god and no human would want to. Remember Greece," she highlighted the importance by using his country name, "we are higher, but not better, nation but not god."_

"Why are there two personifications for our country?" Heracles asked his mother, looking up from where he had been gazing at the ocean.

His mother had gotten that wide, green-eyed gaze many times before. She looked up from the loom she had been weaving on.

"I don't know, Heracles." She responded. "The country is doing well, so maybe they decided to bless me with you. Or maybe…" she trailed off. "Normally nations don't have children, keep in mind. You're lucky to have a mother to teach you things."

Heracles smiled at her, a completely innocent smile. "I'm lucky to have you!"

Ancient Greece smiled back before returning to her work. She wondered if maybe it had to do with that barbarian, Rome. The dark-haired woman's thoughts wandered as she spun the cloth on the loom. That man that had seduced her… Ancient Greece had learned her lesson. She had chased the man out of her lands, to which he had no doubt returned to Europe where more women awaited him, but she couldn't be sure he was gone for good.

It was almost hard to believe that Heracles was his child, in Ancient Greece's opinion. The little boy was serious and loved to sleep- well, there was one thing in common. However, he showed more love for math and philosophy than conquering and warfare. Heracles often seemed off in his own world, which made Ancient Greece afraid he was going to be killed in battle or walk off a cliff.

She remembered what Byzantium had told her: "_If you keep sheltering the boy like this, then Rome will take over him in no time! You won't be around forever, you know."_

Ancient Greece hoped Heracles wouldn't start asking questions about Rome. He had seemed charming but she saw him as ruthless. Even if they had shared a love he still invaded her lands and stole her culture, making her people into slaves.

Glancing back at the brown-haired boy staring at the clouds, Ancient Greece knew that she couldn't delay the inevitable going to Rome, where Heracles would most likely lose his freedom, and she wouldn't be there to do anything.

**A/N- I'm sorry that this chapter is crappy, and short. . And not very action packed. Next time, they'll go to Rome and we'll mostly likely meet the "barbarian."**

**I know Byzantium didn't exist in this time period, but I'm throwing the rules of history. Bwahahaha.**

**And, I think I'll refer to Ancient Greece as Petra from now on :3 Anyway, read and review!**


	3. Chapter 3

The spacing of time was strange for nations.

Fifty years was like a very short time for most nations, (excluding the ones who couldn't sit still for a minute, of course) and if you take that into consideration, that would make a nation's childhood quite a long time.

Still, most children nations were the sole personifications of their country and because of that, they often went into battle against countries much older and stronger. They would even die, occasionally, without ever achieving their true nation form, and would be just another body on the blood-stained battlefield. The only difference that a survivor would notice is that the body as that of a child's, and slowly fading…

Heracles didn't like fighting. He liked hearing his mother's stories about Ancient Greek heroes fighting, killing, and betraying one another, but he hadn't ever liked fighting himself….

_Heracles had always heard stories of how his mother was a fearsome warrior in battle. He didn't doubt it, but had never seen it for himself. Upon the cliff in which they lived, life was tranquil. Heracles had never felt the pull to go do battle._

_However, his mother often went off to war. Whether it was settling minor disputes in the country or much larger battles against their Mediterranean counterparts or European countries, Heracles would always feel pangs in his stomach and aches on his body when the country damaged itself._

_One time, Heracles had gone looking for Petra. It was when he was younger and she was more reluctant to leave him. That had been one of the first times and he was wondering where she was._

_The little green-eyed boy had heard yells and clashing from a little ways away from the village. It made his head hurt, but he wanted to know if his mother was all right, so he followed the noise best he could._

_Wearing a his white chiton in the cool night air, under the moon and various constellations- that Heracles could name- the boy approached an open space surrounded by rocky outcrops. It was only when he crouched down behind one and got a good look at what was going on that Heracles fully realized why his mother had always had a somewhat sad look after describing her battles._

_The field was stained red, some of it thrown up against the rocks- like the other side of the one Heracles was sheltering behind. People lay in heaps, scattered about, while the rest of them still fought on. _

_Their cries echoed off the rock and into Heracles's ears. They were angry, or in pain. He had flinched back when the soldiers- but there were civilians too!- had gotten too close to where he was. Now, he got onto his knees and peered over the rock._

_His mother was right in thick of it. She was probably the only woman there, and fought with a weapon unlike that of the men. It was a large cross. Heracles didn't doubt its power or his mother's. But what he wasn't expecting to see was Petra lifting an exceedingly handsome young man and slamming him into a rock, with strength only of a nation's. _

Is he dead?_ Heracles couldn't bear to watch anymore and turned away, sliding down the rock. If this was a civilian uprising, then what would a full-out war be? He didn't want to know._

_Suddenly, he felt a warm body next to his. He looked to see a small gray cat. Heracles was surprised. He had thought that all animals had fled. But he did remember that Greece had a large stray cat population. Somehow, one had managed to find him._

_The green-eyed boy picked up the gray cat, prepared for it to scratch or bite; but when nothing happened, he held it to his chest. It's warm, furry body gave him a small amount of comfort from what he'd just seen._

_Another cry jolted Heracles back to reality, and, carrying the cat still with him, he sneaked away from the battlefield, one that against his wishes he would probably find himself on someday._

And, according to what Petra had told Heracles- and concerning this matter, she had told him very little, it's to be noted- his father had been a natural warrior.

The same question over and over again- "Am I going to meet this father?" _Rome?_

The same answer- "Someday, μέλι."

That had been going on for so long that Heracles had basically lost hope in ever leaving Greece and venturing off to wherever his father might be. Heracles had a fairly routine life, and he was happy about it. The boy didn't need much more than his group of cats and the night sky, along with some baklava, to make him happy.

That's why it was an absolute surprise when Heracle's mother told him that they were going on a trip- not just any trip, but to Rome.

"Where's Rome?" Heracles had asked. Petra had told him it was part of Europe, just like they were, in a country called Italy. She added that they were to going to meet some other countries there. That was reassuring to hear. Heracles wanted to meet all the other nations of Europe, and make some friends that wouldn't leave him eventually, like his human friends.

It was a rather morbid way of looking at things, but it was all part of Heracles's rather blunt, honest personality. It also made him wonder if he had any siblings, but he decided against asking his mother.

For some reason, Petra seemed worried about the whole trip. Even though she'd been the one who'd planned it.

After a few days, Heracles decided that he had gotten bored of looking at the ceiling of his cabin. In the days before he had gotten bored of that, he had been vomiting and praying to Poseidon for calm seas. Having never been on a boat before, Heracles figured he should've expected the inevitable seasickness that would accompany sailing.

And it didn't do much to cheer him that the journey would take many days to complete. His mind was telling him to go above deck, but his legs wobbled and shook every time he tried too. Finally, it got too much for the boy and he unsteadily climbed out of bed.

_Crash!_ Heracles landed onto his face, the rocking of the boat throwing him off balance. When he had first boarded the ship wasn't a problem, but after so many days in bed his legs seemed to have forgotten how to work.

His managed to half-crawl, half-wobble his way out of the cabin, gradually learning to stand up straight. He the rolling of the ship beneath him was still a off-putting, but Heracles realized that in the short time he'd been standing, he'd grown to like it.

But now he was lost below deck. He saw the sailors and various members of the crew going about their job and decided to stay out of their way. Heracles didn't know much about a boat's working, so what he saw was rather confusing to him.

Suddenly, the boy heard a 'squeak!' sound and saw a rat scamper by him, almost on his feet. Chasing it was a cat, white with black splotches.

"Those are our rat-catchers," one sailor remarked to Heracles as he passed by. "We keep 'em on board to get rid of them rats, so they don't get into our food."

Heracles nodded to the man before taking off after the cat. After that comment he wanted to see if maybe he could find the other cats kept on board. For such a laid-back boy, when it concerned cats he could run incredibly fast.

Leaving the rest of the crew to watch the strange rat-cat-boy chase occurring.

So when Petra came down to check on her son, and realized he wasn't in bed any longer, every sailor pointed her over to where Heracles's double haircurl poked out. There he sat, playing with the same black-spotted cat, a pure white one, and another speckled gray one.

"Heracles?"

"Mother…?" Heracles looked up, smiling happily. "I like these cats on here…wouldn't it be nice to be a cat?"

The cat incident had shown that Heracles was feeling much better, enough to come on deck with his mother to see where exactly they were heading. The rest of the crew watched as the two nations came on deck, seemingly normal except for the small crowd of cats following the younger one.

Petra began pointing out all the landmasses. "…Soon we'll land in Italy, and travel inland to Rome."

"Rome…" Heracles repeated. _That's where _πατέρας _and the other countries are. Not soon enough, I'm sure._

The night before they landed, Heracles prayed to all of the various Greek gods he knew. _Show me what Rome looks like. I want to be able to recognize _πατέρας _when I see him._

But his dreams were stranger than that. He saw two red-haired boys, one with darker hair and a scowl as opposed to the other, with light hair and a happy expression. There was a man wearing a mask, which, for some reason, gave Heracles a foreboding feeling. Right after them was a dark-skinned woman, looking some form of African- Egyptian- and holding the hand of a boy whose face he couldn't see. Last of all came a handsome, brown-haired man wearing a toga.

_Who are these people?_

_Maybe I'll meet them one day._

Heracles was barely clinging to the image of the final man when there was lurch and he was woken instantly.

They were in Italy, and meeting those strange people was going to change from one day to very soon.

**A/N: πατέρας- father**

**Μέλι- honey. It seemed like a cute nickname for Heracles.**

**Oh, and thank you guys for reviewing and favoriting! Even if there aren't many reviews, they make me happy.**

**Yes, I lied. We didn't meet Rome. Honestly, this is starting to look like a random jumble of Heracles's childhood…**

**Well, thanks for reading! Please leave a review :3**


	4. Chapter 4

When Heracles first stepped onto Roman land, Italian land, he realized that even with all the thought he had put into their going to Rome, it was still going to be too much to comprehend.

Before, Rome had simply been the place, or more the setting, where Heracles and his mother would go and meet all the other nations. He had expected that to be the complicated part.

But looking at the large city, with many more people than had been in Heracles's small Greek village, and all the new, modern inventions they used in daily life, it was clear the land and city itself could be just as enigmatic.

For a country that was constantly fighting. Rome seemed relatively peaceful as its central city. As the ship was unloaded, Heracles looked out and tried to stretch his vision and mind as far as they could go. Apparently, the Romans carried water throughout the city with aqueducts. The green-eyed boy watched as merchants argued over fish. Broken bits of Latin were snagged by Heracles as he tried to understand what they were saying. He had studied Latin with his mother, but he wasn't nearly fluent and sincerely hoped that Romans would know some Greek as well- even though it wasn't him communicating.

Heracles hadn't heard his mother come up, but he was now aware of her presence. The green-eyed boy gazed out at the city and said, a mixture of a question and a statement, "That's part of the greatest empire in the world…"

"Yes, it is." Petra replied. "Right now…"

According to her they were to driven into the city by a carriage. Apparently that was different from most people, who would walk. While the two of them waited, Heracles began pondering over to what extent did the Romans' show their admiration for Greek culture? Would this city hold some form of familiarity?

Suddenly Heracles heard the carriage approaching. Looking up, the boy spotted a gray-haired man climbing out of their means of transportation. Despite his hair color, the man seemed to be rather young, though he had a tired aura of sorts. As he approached Heracles and his mother, the Greek boy could see the lines on his face, the strange violet color of his eyes, and how forced his smile seemed to be.

"This is Byzantium," Petra introduced the man to her son, giving no indication of a human name.

Byzantium nodded. "Petra, Heracles. Welcome to Rome. Did you have a good journey?" Heracles noted his fluent Greek, but began to drift away from the conversation. All their things were in the carriage. Between Heracles and his mother, they had brought very little.

Something nudged Heracles's foot. Looking down, he saw that it was the spotted black and white cat from before. _I wish I could bring you…_Heracles began seriously considering that, wondering if he could smuggle a cat with him all the way through Rome. Just as he was about to scoop up the cat, (actually, several more had gathered) his mother pulled on his arm. "Come, Heracles!"

Into the carriage the three got, and off through the city they went.

Throughout the whole ride, Petra and Byzantium discussed politics and fighting, or at least that's what Heracles thought. They spoke in quick Latin, so it was somewhat hard to figure out what they were saying. However, the stress in his mother's voice was evident.

That, Heracles didn't understand. Like he had observed before, Rome seemed tranquil. Now that they were on the streets, speeding towards the palace, Heracles got a look at the way the people of Rome lived.

He could see masters with their slaves (some of them were Greek, he noticed) children walking or playing, some off to see their tutors, mules and oxen carrying merchandise in carts, and bakeries and theatres opening. He could see people empty their slop buckets out the window, and was sincerely glad that he was in a carriage.

Accordingly, Rome had a king, but also a legislature with the Senate and others, so Rome as in the personification didn't have a palace in the royal sense. It was a villa actually. Rome was just another rich Roman citizen, serving in the army, at least to everyone else.

Heracles wondered just how much more there was to him, before falling asleep, as expected by him.

In the villa, all the little green-eyed boy could do was stand impassively behind his mother as she spoke in angry Latin.

The Roman barbarian, as Heracles could pick up, was not even there. He had been off fighting in some far-off European land, and would be returning shortly. The way Heracles saw it, his mother despised Rome and probably hadn't wanted to see him anyway, so what did it matter?

But he didn't voice that opinion. From the looks Byzantium gave him, the occasional glances from high-ups, who could be nations of officials, maybe officers in the Army, Heracles could see that impudent children weren't taken kindly to there. Especially not children of a powerful woman, one who might become the sole personification of the country Greece.

So Heracles stayed silent as his mother talked, a neutral expression on his face, only hoping to be up to their expectations.

With no Rome so far and his mother usually caught up with Byzantium or other political matters, Heracles found it quite easy to get back to his regular schedule. Eating, reading, sleeping (especially sleeping) and practicing Latin when he could- it was a content lifestyle anywhere. Heracles would also often explore the villa.

One day- he had lost track how many days they had been there, sad as it is- Heracles saw a strange sight for the villa. He saw a boy his age, or so. The boy had some strange cloth tied around his head, so Heracles couldn't see much of his hair. His skin tone wasn't like that of the other Romans. Accompanying the strange boy was a black dog.

The seemed just as surprised to see Heracles as he himself; he looked the Greek boy over, as if searching for some mark of recognition.

The boy raised his eyes to Heracles's, and past the surprise, Heracles could recognize some strange familiarity, even though he was pretty sure he'd never seen this boy before. Was that pity?

The Heracles heard his name being called. The boy turned around and whisked around a corner, the dog trotting faithfully behind him.

The green-eyed boy turned to see Byzantium there. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Who was that?"

"Who was who?

"That boy. With the dog.'

Byzantium let out a small sigh. "Him. Never mind him. Listen, boy, he's come back" it didn't take much deciphering to figure out who "he" was-"so you'd best obey your mother's wishes and go see the man."

Heracles could almost feel the paranoia coming off Byzantium.

Inside, he felt curiosity and anticipation- well, as much as he could feel- but on the outside, he just nodded.

His mother despised Rome, and Byzantium seemed to hold some fear and hatred against him, as well. But Heracles wanted to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he could re-conjure some love. He decided then to act like a good son for him and everybody else. Just as expected.

**A/N: Screw reality. They landed in Rome :D**

**Anyways, I'll write more over the holidays, but since I'm going to be seeing relatives, don't expect much.**

**Please review, and Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, or whatever. I guess just happy holidays! **


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